March 18, 2004No Fit For Printi have lots of little bits and pieces of writing laying around, many of which i've been unable to complete and others i simply don't want to. it was suggested to me today that i should submit some writing to fiction bitch. not having heard of this person before i googled it; hence the link, and now i'm not so sure it was a complement. ok, ok, i'll admit it -- it was meant as a complement which i still feel is undeserved; however, i'm not so sure i'm ready to hear some other than myself be brutally honest about my drivel. he sits silently, perched upon the cliff with his feet dangling along it's jagged walls listening to the waves crash against the rocks below while writing in his journal...i find myself shackled to the chains of confliction which bind me to a desperate life of uncertainty. why dream, why hope? is my salvation to be found in the madness they bring? for so long i have held onto my sanity, like i do my pen now, loosely. inevitably it will fall and be lost forever.
Posted by ac at March 18, 2004 02:20 AM
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